Why is it that flies ONLY buzz around my face and head? It's one of the most irritating things I have ever experienced!
Why is it that the wind only blows my hair INTO my eyes? Even when it's tied back, I still look like a wild woman.
Why is it that my fingernails grow like weeds when I'm in the tropics? They only collect dirt here but won't grow for weeks when I'm at home.
Why is it that my cravings for junk food bring me to my knees here? I can walk by it in a grocery store at home without a second glance.
Why is it that I find it acceptable to smell like a wet dog living on the streets? This should NEVER be acceptable!
Why is it that I continue to find spiders the most repulsive things on the planet? I know they have a job to do but I really don't care.
Why is it that I'm the only one around who can only speak one language? THAT'S pathetic! (does my little bit of french count???)
Why is it that wherever you are in the world, there is always drama? Get over it already and just get along!
Why is it that I always want to be doing what I'm not doing. I want to be diving right now!
Why is it that I don't feel the least bit guilty when I sit here and pretend to look busy? I really should do something...
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
When the grown ups are away...
Hi all!
Quick note to say I have slept well for two nights now, in my new room. The bathroom situation is one I will choose not to discuss, but I have felt safe enough to close my eyes and no longer see the shadow monster crouched at the foot of my bed. For now, life is chaotic but my nights are not spent on pins and needles. Everything is easier to take when you've had a chance to sleep.
We've had a couple of days with no owners, just Mac, me, and the dive crew. I've done a surprising amount of housekeeping since I've arrived but it helps to fill my days. Funny thing is, as much as I was worried about the safety situation with R & C being gone, the stress level has actually been reduced considerably without them here. Can't put my finger on it exactly, but there are more smiles all around and people seem to be more inclined to joke with each other a bit these past two days. Of course, of course when the cat is around,the mice will not play, but it has been interesting to see first hand. Things continue to run smoothly, jobs are getting done, but everyone just seems a little more relaxed. We'll see how things go once they return this afternoon...
Another bit of drama late last night as the outskirts of a cyclone brushed past our coast but nothing to lose sleep over. The boats were moved to a safer place and we had a bit of clean up to do this morning so overall, a minor alert. The fun just never ends here. Plus, the day has stayed overcast and cool - a nice bit of relief from the staggering heat, so maybe a cyclone every now and then isn't such a bad thing. (please pick up on the sarcasm, thank you.)
Teaching today was rather productive so I'm starting to feel a bit more encouraged. People actually came to join me when they saw me sitting with books. Quite exciting really. Don't care too much if they were simply avoiding work, all I know is that they weren't quite so scared of me today. Progess. I'll take it.
A little side note about teaching, especially when I am in a closed space or close proximity to my students, oh.my.gosh. the smell. the smell is... oh gosh... *gag*... the smell. Imagine the worst possible b.o. on top of the worst possible sweaty, wet shoe on top of milk that has been sitting out on a summer day, souring and fermenting and growing. I kid you not. Trying to hold one's breath and teach just doesn't work, so I've learned to turn my head and breathe in from the one or two clean spots of air and make it look as casual as possible. I have to admit though, there have been times where I've had to just move away. The heat is agonizing and of course deodorant and laundry soap are often non-existent or in low supply plus they often have to wear the same shirt (staff shirt) over and over again without washing it. If we ever run out of tear gas or chemical war supplies, we can bottle and sell it from here. **GAG** The saddest part of it all... I think I've smelled it on me once or twice. gasp!
So that's it. Quick entry to let you know that my sense of humor is slowly returning and I'm ready to keep fighting, for now. The "L" couple just left today for a week, the owners are back this afternoon, I have no doubt there will be more drama shortly. I'll let you know. xoxo
Quick note to say I have slept well for two nights now, in my new room. The bathroom situation is one I will choose not to discuss, but I have felt safe enough to close my eyes and no longer see the shadow monster crouched at the foot of my bed. For now, life is chaotic but my nights are not spent on pins and needles. Everything is easier to take when you've had a chance to sleep.
We've had a couple of days with no owners, just Mac, me, and the dive crew. I've done a surprising amount of housekeeping since I've arrived but it helps to fill my days. Funny thing is, as much as I was worried about the safety situation with R & C being gone, the stress level has actually been reduced considerably without them here. Can't put my finger on it exactly, but there are more smiles all around and people seem to be more inclined to joke with each other a bit these past two days. Of course, of course when the cat is around,the mice will not play, but it has been interesting to see first hand. Things continue to run smoothly, jobs are getting done, but everyone just seems a little more relaxed. We'll see how things go once they return this afternoon...
Another bit of drama late last night as the outskirts of a cyclone brushed past our coast but nothing to lose sleep over. The boats were moved to a safer place and we had a bit of clean up to do this morning so overall, a minor alert. The fun just never ends here. Plus, the day has stayed overcast and cool - a nice bit of relief from the staggering heat, so maybe a cyclone every now and then isn't such a bad thing. (please pick up on the sarcasm, thank you.)
Teaching today was rather productive so I'm starting to feel a bit more encouraged. People actually came to join me when they saw me sitting with books. Quite exciting really. Don't care too much if they were simply avoiding work, all I know is that they weren't quite so scared of me today. Progess. I'll take it.
A little side note about teaching, especially when I am in a closed space or close proximity to my students, oh.my.gosh. the smell. the smell is... oh gosh... *gag*... the smell. Imagine the worst possible b.o. on top of the worst possible sweaty, wet shoe on top of milk that has been sitting out on a summer day, souring and fermenting and growing. I kid you not. Trying to hold one's breath and teach just doesn't work, so I've learned to turn my head and breathe in from the one or two clean spots of air and make it look as casual as possible. I have to admit though, there have been times where I've had to just move away. The heat is agonizing and of course deodorant and laundry soap are often non-existent or in low supply plus they often have to wear the same shirt (staff shirt) over and over again without washing it. If we ever run out of tear gas or chemical war supplies, we can bottle and sell it from here. **GAG** The saddest part of it all... I think I've smelled it on me once or twice. gasp!
So that's it. Quick entry to let you know that my sense of humor is slowly returning and I'm ready to keep fighting, for now. The "L" couple just left today for a week, the owners are back this afternoon, I have no doubt there will be more drama shortly. I'll let you know. xoxo
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Still here, still alive, still unsure.
Sorry for the delay in updates. I'm doing okay and haven't been snatched from my bed or whisked into the African darkness; at least not yet. I spent the night after the robbery in my own room and the following three nights elsewhere. During the day, my head is clear, I can see how silly it all is, I rationalize how safe I am with the guards and new locks, then night falls and it all goes to pieces. Changes, they are a coming.
The first two nights after the sleepless night in my room, I slept on a couch in the S.African girls's room. Did I tell you that they are engaged? Cute little early 20 somethings. So Raf's diveteam consists of a lesbian instructor, her partner, who is doing her divemaster training, and a gay divemaster. He WILL start flying the rainbow flag soon. I'm curious to hear how staff is reacting to seeing me coming out of the "L" room at 6:30am for two days. Yes, I'm open to all kinds of new experiences here, folks, all kinds.
Yesterday was a busy day as a bigwig from the police on a different part of the island came to pay R & C a visit and do some investigating. It pays to have pull around here, apparently. While they were chatting, news via the local grape / gossip vine came in that some of R & C's paperwork that was stolen was found in the village somewhere. So they have recovered bits and pieces, some passports and ID, random things, but still lots to replace. One "suspect" has been held in custody since the night of the big robbery and they are apparently keeping him in for two more weeks. There was mention of some rubber hoses and being close to a confession, I didn't ask for details. The "justice" system here is a full on circus.
Regardless, Raf feels confident that the person who robbed me and then robbed them is one and the same and it is the one who is in jail. Matching footprints and playing CSI has been funny to see around here. He thinks that I have nothing to fear however I remind him of the followig each time he tells me that
1. they know there was more than one weasel involved in the robbery at his place,
2. they've only caught one and the other suspects are "missing",
3. people who know the guy who is in jail are angry with Swahili Divers and the way we have manipulated the police into jailing one of their own.
4. my place is still very poorly lit, with the front entrance being pitch dark, and
5. my closest neighbour last night was 4 huts away. too far to hear me scream.
Oh, and I did tell you that the suspects are guys who walked off the job the day of the robbery at R & C's, right? So this is all revenge motivated by angry people. Yeah, yeah, you're right Janice. Come stay in our guest room tonight until we can sort this out a bit. Gee. thanks. I think I will.
R & C left today to go to the mainland to try to replace the still missing passports and other things they need to take care of. Tonight, I will be moving into another room. There is a "staff area" where R & C's house is, Mac's (the GM)house, and two side by side rooms for the dive staff. The girls are in one and Brad, is in the other. Brad has offered to move to the dorm rooms tonight and I will be moving ot his room. I'll have lots of people around and the 5 dogs are up there too. It may be a bit of a shaky night, but it won't be nearly as terrifying.
I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous with R & C being away at this point. Mac is great, but he's younger than me and not the scariest of blokes. R & C have their Swahili, their weapons, their connections, and just their general presence. I'm pretty sure I'm the oldest staff member here right now and obviously I'm not going to be much help should there be another issue. There are concerns that this has all been an inside job, people watching and planning, so that means word is out that R & C are out of town right now. sigh. It may very well be another very long night.
So we wait and see. I'll give it another fair chance once I've moved into this room and try to settle yet again but if things continue on, I've come to the conclusion that yep, I'm all done. Silly or not, I'm useless as a teacher if I'm not sleeping at night and if I'm not sleeping at night for what I feel are legitimate reasons, then that's the way it rolls my friends, that's the way it rolls.
As for the daylight hours here, I can't really say too, too much. There will be no pictures to come as the bastard stole my brand new, very exciting camera. I know it's only a camera, I know it could have been WAY worse, but I really loved that little thing. Only used it once or twice too. Damnit. Not even really sure what the idiots are going to do with it because the battery was dead when the shadow monster stole it from my room and I have a feeling that the local village folk who are literally barefoot and living the most basic of lives won't have a battery charger. GIVE ME MY CAMERA BACK, A@@HOLE!!! Sorry. I'm moving through the stages. Today I'm pretty friggin angry.
The teaching piece is, for lack of a better word, dumb. I spend most of the day trying to chase down and drag the staff to either a quiet spot or an empty table. It's so different than the previous experiences I've had. I'm used to children who come running and screaming like it's gym class - "teacher! teacher!" or even my last position in Calgary where the women would travel for hours on transit two times a week just to get to their English class. Getting smiles out of these staff members is exhausting, getting them to come to even sit with me is disheartening. R & C really want them to learn so that it will give them better opportunities in their futures as in their villages, they have limited access to education, but to me, they really couldn't care less.
And it's hot. It's so hot. And dirty. I've lived and travelled some really nasty places, but I think I was pretty spoiled by the SE Asian way of life. Amid the filth and the stink, you would see the Thai people wake up every morning and sweep their section of sidewalk in front of their homes or stores. Everyone, everywhere, always sweeping and cleaning. Here, even the housekeeping girls can't be bothered to clean. There are lots of stereotypes and frustrations already being tested here. I have short little legs, I can't move that quickly even when on full speed, but I will go and get three girls, all of whom are taller than me, I'll walk as slowly as I possibly can, and I'll still get to my table, arrange and re-arrange my materials, get a drink, go for a pee, and take a quick nap before they actually make it down to me. And they have been moving the whole time. Slow is a whole other concept here.
I've had to do a lot of helping out with cleaning and arranging rooms. The process would take me all of maybe 45 minutes. For these girls, it's sweep, sweep, LEAN on the broom, sigh, stare out the window, maybe scratch here or there, sigh again, stare out the window a little more, adjust the wraps they wear to protect their clothing from getting dirty, LEAN on the brooms a little more, then repeat the process. I kid you not. Frustration, complete awe at the lack of productivity combined with skin-melting heat is just a ticking time bomb. I will snap soon and it won't be pretty. But R & C talk about it all the time. Since the started up here a decade ago, they bang their heads, yell and scream, show examples over and over again, yet nothing changes. I have seen all the staff, in all areas of this resort, choose to stand and stare and do nothing over any kind of thought process. Okay, I've finished this, but no one has told me what to do next, and yes, I have worked here for 10 months and know the routine, but noone has told me the routine TODAY, so I'm just going to stand here and stare. Seriously, coming from the lands of over-productivity, this has been painful to see. It's sad, really.
So essentially, the teaching has been shit. They keep telling me that eventually everyone will get used to me and be excited to come, I've yet to see anyone get excited about anything, education will not be the motivator. They talked about scheduling and forcing them to come... great. Not only will I be the strange, white english teacher, I'll be the cow who takes them away from their tea and break time. Forcing anyone to do what they aren't interested in doing never does go well. I do miss the smiles and welcoming nature of my last travels. This is an entirely different ball game here. And I'm on the losing team. We'll keep trying though!
Did dive number three today and it was lovely. Haven't been in the water nearly as much as I had hoped considering I'm only steps from the beach. It's more of a rocky beach and lots of nasty sea urchins so not the nicest of beaches but I do hope to get rid of the pasty whites sometimes soon. The diving is nice but haven't been out enough to really give it a fair grade yet. They are of course encouraging me to relax and enjoy, but I haven't been here long enough to experience much other than the down side of island life. Common theme... haven't been here long enough yet. Give it time, give it time, give it time. Plus, I should have a big ole bag of good luck coming soon I sure hope! All of my bad luck has been crammed into this first week of January and it's all sunshine and lollipops from here, right? Damn well better be right!
So anyway, just a quick little note to let you all know that I'm still working on making this work. I'll think of some fun little bits to share about life on Pemba in the next little bit. Hope all of you are well. Talk more soon. xoxo
The first two nights after the sleepless night in my room, I slept on a couch in the S.African girls's room. Did I tell you that they are engaged? Cute little early 20 somethings. So Raf's diveteam consists of a lesbian instructor, her partner, who is doing her divemaster training, and a gay divemaster. He WILL start flying the rainbow flag soon. I'm curious to hear how staff is reacting to seeing me coming out of the "L" room at 6:30am for two days. Yes, I'm open to all kinds of new experiences here, folks, all kinds.
Yesterday was a busy day as a bigwig from the police on a different part of the island came to pay R & C a visit and do some investigating. It pays to have pull around here, apparently. While they were chatting, news via the local grape / gossip vine came in that some of R & C's paperwork that was stolen was found in the village somewhere. So they have recovered bits and pieces, some passports and ID, random things, but still lots to replace. One "suspect" has been held in custody since the night of the big robbery and they are apparently keeping him in for two more weeks. There was mention of some rubber hoses and being close to a confession, I didn't ask for details. The "justice" system here is a full on circus.
Regardless, Raf feels confident that the person who robbed me and then robbed them is one and the same and it is the one who is in jail. Matching footprints and playing CSI has been funny to see around here. He thinks that I have nothing to fear however I remind him of the followig each time he tells me that
1. they know there was more than one weasel involved in the robbery at his place,
2. they've only caught one and the other suspects are "missing",
3. people who know the guy who is in jail are angry with Swahili Divers and the way we have manipulated the police into jailing one of their own.
4. my place is still very poorly lit, with the front entrance being pitch dark, and
5. my closest neighbour last night was 4 huts away. too far to hear me scream.
Oh, and I did tell you that the suspects are guys who walked off the job the day of the robbery at R & C's, right? So this is all revenge motivated by angry people. Yeah, yeah, you're right Janice. Come stay in our guest room tonight until we can sort this out a bit. Gee. thanks. I think I will.
R & C left today to go to the mainland to try to replace the still missing passports and other things they need to take care of. Tonight, I will be moving into another room. There is a "staff area" where R & C's house is, Mac's (the GM)house, and two side by side rooms for the dive staff. The girls are in one and Brad, is in the other. Brad has offered to move to the dorm rooms tonight and I will be moving ot his room. I'll have lots of people around and the 5 dogs are up there too. It may be a bit of a shaky night, but it won't be nearly as terrifying.
I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous with R & C being away at this point. Mac is great, but he's younger than me and not the scariest of blokes. R & C have their Swahili, their weapons, their connections, and just their general presence. I'm pretty sure I'm the oldest staff member here right now and obviously I'm not going to be much help should there be another issue. There are concerns that this has all been an inside job, people watching and planning, so that means word is out that R & C are out of town right now. sigh. It may very well be another very long night.
So we wait and see. I'll give it another fair chance once I've moved into this room and try to settle yet again but if things continue on, I've come to the conclusion that yep, I'm all done. Silly or not, I'm useless as a teacher if I'm not sleeping at night and if I'm not sleeping at night for what I feel are legitimate reasons, then that's the way it rolls my friends, that's the way it rolls.
As for the daylight hours here, I can't really say too, too much. There will be no pictures to come as the bastard stole my brand new, very exciting camera. I know it's only a camera, I know it could have been WAY worse, but I really loved that little thing. Only used it once or twice too. Damnit. Not even really sure what the idiots are going to do with it because the battery was dead when the shadow monster stole it from my room and I have a feeling that the local village folk who are literally barefoot and living the most basic of lives won't have a battery charger. GIVE ME MY CAMERA BACK, A@@HOLE!!! Sorry. I'm moving through the stages. Today I'm pretty friggin angry.
The teaching piece is, for lack of a better word, dumb. I spend most of the day trying to chase down and drag the staff to either a quiet spot or an empty table. It's so different than the previous experiences I've had. I'm used to children who come running and screaming like it's gym class - "teacher! teacher!" or even my last position in Calgary where the women would travel for hours on transit two times a week just to get to their English class. Getting smiles out of these staff members is exhausting, getting them to come to even sit with me is disheartening. R & C really want them to learn so that it will give them better opportunities in their futures as in their villages, they have limited access to education, but to me, they really couldn't care less.
And it's hot. It's so hot. And dirty. I've lived and travelled some really nasty places, but I think I was pretty spoiled by the SE Asian way of life. Amid the filth and the stink, you would see the Thai people wake up every morning and sweep their section of sidewalk in front of their homes or stores. Everyone, everywhere, always sweeping and cleaning. Here, even the housekeeping girls can't be bothered to clean. There are lots of stereotypes and frustrations already being tested here. I have short little legs, I can't move that quickly even when on full speed, but I will go and get three girls, all of whom are taller than me, I'll walk as slowly as I possibly can, and I'll still get to my table, arrange and re-arrange my materials, get a drink, go for a pee, and take a quick nap before they actually make it down to me. And they have been moving the whole time. Slow is a whole other concept here.
I've had to do a lot of helping out with cleaning and arranging rooms. The process would take me all of maybe 45 minutes. For these girls, it's sweep, sweep, LEAN on the broom, sigh, stare out the window, maybe scratch here or there, sigh again, stare out the window a little more, adjust the wraps they wear to protect their clothing from getting dirty, LEAN on the brooms a little more, then repeat the process. I kid you not. Frustration, complete awe at the lack of productivity combined with skin-melting heat is just a ticking time bomb. I will snap soon and it won't be pretty. But R & C talk about it all the time. Since the started up here a decade ago, they bang their heads, yell and scream, show examples over and over again, yet nothing changes. I have seen all the staff, in all areas of this resort, choose to stand and stare and do nothing over any kind of thought process. Okay, I've finished this, but no one has told me what to do next, and yes, I have worked here for 10 months and know the routine, but noone has told me the routine TODAY, so I'm just going to stand here and stare. Seriously, coming from the lands of over-productivity, this has been painful to see. It's sad, really.
So essentially, the teaching has been shit. They keep telling me that eventually everyone will get used to me and be excited to come, I've yet to see anyone get excited about anything, education will not be the motivator. They talked about scheduling and forcing them to come... great. Not only will I be the strange, white english teacher, I'll be the cow who takes them away from their tea and break time. Forcing anyone to do what they aren't interested in doing never does go well. I do miss the smiles and welcoming nature of my last travels. This is an entirely different ball game here. And I'm on the losing team. We'll keep trying though!
Did dive number three today and it was lovely. Haven't been in the water nearly as much as I had hoped considering I'm only steps from the beach. It's more of a rocky beach and lots of nasty sea urchins so not the nicest of beaches but I do hope to get rid of the pasty whites sometimes soon. The diving is nice but haven't been out enough to really give it a fair grade yet. They are of course encouraging me to relax and enjoy, but I haven't been here long enough to experience much other than the down side of island life. Common theme... haven't been here long enough yet. Give it time, give it time, give it time. Plus, I should have a big ole bag of good luck coming soon I sure hope! All of my bad luck has been crammed into this first week of January and it's all sunshine and lollipops from here, right? Damn well better be right!
So anyway, just a quick little note to let you all know that I'm still working on making this work. I'll think of some fun little bits to share about life on Pemba in the next little bit. Hope all of you are well. Talk more soon. xoxo
Monday, January 4, 2010
Drama continued...
A final note on the previous entry and my loss of $250... as Scott was checking out, he mentioned to our GM that his hammock, that he had left tied to a tree outside for the last three days had a mosquito net or something stolen from it. The GM just shook his head and laughed. What was this guy's angle?! His wallet was stolen because he left his shorts laying around and he was compensated but he still left his belongings laying around and was still expecting to be compensated for it. Staff concensus on this guy is that he came to stay with us, had a good time, left because he ran out of money, drove off on his bike, either lost his wallet or ran out of money, returned the next day without any money or a place to stay but a bit of a plan, and I happened to get caught in the plot. Money is gone, he is gone, lesson learned.
Now onto...
The Screamfest
The night of January 2 was a night like the previous few, dark but clear and calm. I had put the silliness of the money aside, had a nice night and headed off to bed. My lights were turned off at 11:15pm. I sleep in the middle of a room on a mattress in the middle of a raised concrete platform. When I stand beside it, the top of the platform comes to about my hips. There is a mosquito net all around my mattress and due to lack of storage space, my suitcases are arranged at the foot of my bed, on the part of the concrete platform that is not inside the mosquito net. There's an industrial sized fan on the ceiling above my bed that rumbles and ca-chunks, and howls like an airplane propellor but it does the job. I have an ensuite open-air bathroom (thatched roof, unenclosed) and the windows are latticed so the breeze can blow through. It's really quite nice.
There's a light outside of my little hut/house that shines in just a bit so the dark isn't quite so dark when the generator is running. I fell asleep on my back, as I always do, thinking of some lesson plans for the next day.
Sometime about two short hours later, my monkey brain (thank you for the term, Andrew) was thankfully alert and effective. I don't remember any logical thought process only my body's reactions. I remember sitting straight up, not sure why, and seeing a dark figure at the foot of my bed bending over my suitcases. He stood less than 5 feet from my feet. I remember my lungs filling with air in a fraction of a second and every muscle in my body attempting to launch a siren scream but because I've had a cold since I've arrived and not much of a voice, no sound came out. Haven't we all had those nightmares?! Where you try to run but can't move, try to scream but there's no sound?! Instantly, my lungs filled to the point of bursting and the second time, the scream came loud and clear, full of fear. The dark figure at the end of my bed jumped at the sound, turned to run, and pulled on my front door so hard that he broke the lock to get out (the "lock" is a 3 inch by 2 inch piece of wood that I turn from horizontal to vertical at the top of one of the doors). I continued to sit straight up on my bed and I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. I watched out of my window for someone to come up the path, it seemed like YEARS but I saw noone, no lights, nothing. I grabbed my headtorch (always next to me), stood up out of my bed, and continued to just scream and scream and scream, standing in the middle of the room, watching out the window, shaking, screaming, hearing the blood pounding in my head, knowing that I had neighbours about 50 steps away, knowing that our Masaai guards were on duty, and trying to figure out why noone was running to help me and screaming. Like I said, no logical thought.
side note: Masaai guards. The four men, from a village far from here, who are part of a tribe known for their tracking and warrior skills. Tall, thin as rails, black as night, and the magnificent ability to glide past you without a sound. They dress in traditional kinds of blankets and decorative bracelets, carry spears, bow and arrows, and machetes, all of which they can use with the deadliest of accuracy, and are of a very proud, serious nature. They take their heritage and their responsibilities very, very seriously not just as our guards, but as who they are. They are impressive to see and apparently even more impressive to watch on the hunt. Our Masaai guards patrol our grounds at night. The compound is fenced in, but we are also surrounded but open fields, a beach, and the jungle. A fence is only a fence. Okay, back to my living nightmare...
I stood in the middle of the room, screaming, seeing the window between the bathroom and my bedroom...open, seeing two backpacks that had been up on a table...on the ground, wondering if there was someone in the bathroom, wondering if the person who had just been mere feet away from me was gone or was just standing outside of my front door that had slammed shut by now, and just willing someone, anyone, to come so I wasn't alone. I finally saw the flashlights of the Masaai, three of them in a row, walking somewhat hesitantly towards my room. I ran out the front door and startled them. How? I'm not sure as I had not stopped screaming, except for the few hyperseconds I needed to keep refilling my lungs. Well, of course they are native Masaai, they don't speak a word of English. I'm shaking and pointing at my door trying to tell them that someone was inside. One of them gently leans across me and pulls my door closed. NO! NO! NO! I'm shouting SOMEONE INSIDE! SOMEONE INSIDE! and I pointed to the fence that is across a small patch of grass just outside of my front door, the perimeter of the gounds. Then I hear one of the Masaai speak, the three of them hustle over to the fence and light up a massive hole in the chain link. They run through it and are off in the field, searching. I almost throw up.
Standing on the path in the front of my hut in my pyjamas, shaking to the bone, and holy crap, I'm alone again in the dark. Flashlights are great, but not enough when you are absolutely terrified. I let them look for a few minutes until I just couldn't stand it anymore and I called them back. I kept saying the names of the owners over and over again, "Raf and Cisa. Raf and Cisca." One, because the hole in the fence was BIG and there was no way that we could leave that unaddressed, and two, I needed them to walk me there, as they live on the other side of the compound (maybe only a 5 minute walk) but I was too afraid to go on my own to tell them about it. I threw on some clothes and we marched over.
Trying to walk on shaky knees, weak from fear but racing with adrenaline, wow, what a disaster. The Masaai first started gently knocking on Mac's door, the GM, who lives just across the path from Raf and Cisca. We tried and tried, he wasn't waking up. Then they were talking back and forth to each other and left back down the road, I guess to continue the search. So again, I'm standing in the middle of a dirt path, more light and the tha-thumping of a nearby generator, and I still feel completely alone in the middle of nowhere, just waiting to have my throat slit from behind. Screw this. I walk up and start banging on Raf and Cisca's door. Dogs wake up, they wake up, Cisca pokes her head out, I try to speak. I get the words, "someone was in my room" out of my mouth and then choke. Shit. My heart is racing even writing this. A couple of tears but I manage to shake it off and clarify that I was sleeping and woke up to find someone in my room.
She pulls me inside, wakes up Raf, who is up, headtorch on, and massive spear in hand within seconds, firing questions at me trying to get the whole picture. Raf wakes Mac up, various weapons are grabbed as are some dogs (there are 5 who live here) and we make our way back to my place. The men check out the fence and the area, I step back inside my room. I just can't stop shaking. I've turned all the lights on by now and see how it all went down. This shadow of my nightmare had scaled the bathroom wall from the outside, mere steps from the fence, and come through one of the latticed windows that didn't have a lock on it. My two backpacks that were sitting on an old section of a local boat to be used as a chair had been placed beside a small, low table next to the door. I think what woke my monkey brain up (again Andrew, thank you for the very accurate phrase) was the sound of the 60L empty backpack falling over after he had placed in on the ground. I can clearly remember the distinct sound of plastic clips hitting concrete floor and it must have somehow registered that that particular sound should not been happening when I'm in my bed.
The search continues, conversation and questions fly, Cisca is fluent in Swahili, and I am slowly starting to be able to hold myself straight again. A second big hole is found in the fence a few huts down, no sign of the intruder, and we all head back to Raf and Cisca's. A round table discussion follows as to who they believe it could have been and why. Raf asks me if I saw him, if I could describe him, and my temper fuelled by terror flared briefly, "He was a black man in my room in the middle of a dark African night, I couldn't see what the f**k he looked like!!!" oops. and we laugh. Tension broken, temporarily.
Much hypothesizing, much more joking, some sympathy and comforting, and I agreed to at least spend the couple of hours left until daylight in their spare room. I layed wide-eyed and rigid as death hearing every snapping twig, every russling leaf and blade of grass, and every single shift in the gravel outside until the sky started to lighten. At around 7am, I went back to my hut, alone, and tried to get on with it.
I avoided mostly everyone throughout the day because I didn't know what I should or shouldn't let other guests know but by the time the dive boat got back, as Raf was on the dive boat, everyone was somewhat aware. I spent the day cleaning. I needed to clean. I hand washed my clothes and sheets, swept and cleaned my room, wandered aimlessly, and cleaned some more. I was just out of sorts. I kept my answers to questions brief and casual and I dreaded nightfall. As the light faded, my stomach began to twist and turn.
sigh... such a drama queen. I know. I made it through the next night on my own, dog at my side, Masaai outside of my door, all of the lights on, seeing that figure at the foot of my bed every time I closed my eyes, swallowing the overwhelming panic in the dark of night, so of course I didn't sleep a wink. New locks and such were put on my hut, new sleeping arrangements were offered but I knew I had to just get through it as I couldn't be afraid of the dark for the next six months. No sleep, but faced the demon.
But wait... please don't go... it isn't over yet.
All of us dragged our asses through the day yesterday as we were tired from the couple of days worth of head shaking what-the-hell-is-going-on-here?! At around 10pm, Raf, exhausted, headed up to his house, the rest of were still in the sitting area (I was avoiding my room), and Mac's phone rang. He and Cisca excused themselves, I knew this wasn't good. In the distance I heard some shouting, a little while later the dogs, who should have been up on their property, came tearing down to the beach at full speed and disappeared, and I knew this wasn't good. Someone had ransacked Raf and Cisca's place.
The two remaining dive staff (two FABULOUS young south african girls) and I went back and forth sitting with Cisca, checking the office and the boats to make sure all was okay, and generally making the rounds. The story unfolded... Raf coming back to his house to find his front door locked from the inside. He must have startled whoever it was as he booted his front door in with one solid kick and the chase was on. He didn't see anyone but gave a mighty shout. The same crew of Raf, Mac, and the Masaai made their way to the village. Following suspicions and using Masaai ability to match footprints outside of Raf's house and a certain staff member's house, all felt that they had found the culprit and were able to guess at accomplices.
Point of concern... I watched Cicsa beg, plead, demand, yell, swear, and beg some more during three different phone calls trying to get the police to come. Raf and Cisca park a vehicle and fuel outside of the local police station (the police don't have a vehicle) but I guess they had used the fuel, were too tired to come, and didn't think it was necessary even though she shouted "EMERGENCY!" over and over again. That was very disconcerting. Eventually they did come, a culprit has been arrested, and Raf and Cisca have spent the day in the village dealing with the police. I haven't heard the outcome yet.
What the hell do I do now? I spent the rest of the couple of hours of last night on a couch in the s.african girls place and when I tried to nap in my own hut today, I woke up in a panicked start as I was sure I heard someone trying to get in my front door. It was full daylight, I went out to check and of course noone was there, but I just can't keep it together. I was told that there was no reason for me to be afraid to go back to my room last night, the thief was caught. When I was afraid to go back to my room after being awoken by creepy company, I was told a similar story, don't be afraid to go back, whoever it was is now too scared to come back. Two nights later, they come back. There's no way to know if the two incidents are related and I don't know if it's better if they are or they aren't. Raf and Cisca are busy trying to replace passports, put steel gates over the office doors, and replace the items that were taken from their home, I am busy trying to figure out how I can survive one more night. They are together, in a big house, with five dogs and lots of weapons, close to all of the people. I am a girl, alone, in the dark corner at the end of a row of huts, close to the edge of the property, no weapons, can have a dog or two, but feeling completely, completely alone. If the two incidents were related and guys are in jail, great. If they weren't and there is more to come, not great. Not good. Not okay at all. Again, the sun has set and light is quickly fading. I just don't know what to do.
So I'm stuck. I don't want to be a baby and bail, I don't want to be that girl who ran crying home because her feathers got ruffled a bit in the middle of the night, but I can't help thinking, what's next? Really. What's next? The owners have to be concerned with their business and all that they have just lost. I know my safety is an issue, but to them it's not the main issue right this second. To me, being selfish me, it is.
I'll have to just take this minute by minute and keep my head about me as best I can. If anyone has a weapon, some advice, mace, rabid guard dogs, or a need for an adventure holiday, please send it all my way, priority post. It won't make it here because the police who used the fuel supply to get them here in an emergency on a random drive through the country side will see packages coming to Swahili Divers and I'm sure feel a need to test drive the contents, but I'll definitely appreciate the gesture. It's getting dark, I have to shower and gather my things, I need to go. There is nothing romantic about the nights anymore. I'm sorry for the horrid entry, I'm sorry that I don't have better stories to tell, but I will keep working on it. I've been saying that since I first started this blog, haven't I? Sorry about that. I really will try to find a lovely tale soon. Keep fingers crossed for me please and I will keep you posted. One week in. Nice.
Now onto...
The Screamfest
The night of January 2 was a night like the previous few, dark but clear and calm. I had put the silliness of the money aside, had a nice night and headed off to bed. My lights were turned off at 11:15pm. I sleep in the middle of a room on a mattress in the middle of a raised concrete platform. When I stand beside it, the top of the platform comes to about my hips. There is a mosquito net all around my mattress and due to lack of storage space, my suitcases are arranged at the foot of my bed, on the part of the concrete platform that is not inside the mosquito net. There's an industrial sized fan on the ceiling above my bed that rumbles and ca-chunks, and howls like an airplane propellor but it does the job. I have an ensuite open-air bathroom (thatched roof, unenclosed) and the windows are latticed so the breeze can blow through. It's really quite nice.
There's a light outside of my little hut/house that shines in just a bit so the dark isn't quite so dark when the generator is running. I fell asleep on my back, as I always do, thinking of some lesson plans for the next day.
Sometime about two short hours later, my monkey brain (thank you for the term, Andrew) was thankfully alert and effective. I don't remember any logical thought process only my body's reactions. I remember sitting straight up, not sure why, and seeing a dark figure at the foot of my bed bending over my suitcases. He stood less than 5 feet from my feet. I remember my lungs filling with air in a fraction of a second and every muscle in my body attempting to launch a siren scream but because I've had a cold since I've arrived and not much of a voice, no sound came out. Haven't we all had those nightmares?! Where you try to run but can't move, try to scream but there's no sound?! Instantly, my lungs filled to the point of bursting and the second time, the scream came loud and clear, full of fear. The dark figure at the end of my bed jumped at the sound, turned to run, and pulled on my front door so hard that he broke the lock to get out (the "lock" is a 3 inch by 2 inch piece of wood that I turn from horizontal to vertical at the top of one of the doors). I continued to sit straight up on my bed and I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. I watched out of my window for someone to come up the path, it seemed like YEARS but I saw noone, no lights, nothing. I grabbed my headtorch (always next to me), stood up out of my bed, and continued to just scream and scream and scream, standing in the middle of the room, watching out the window, shaking, screaming, hearing the blood pounding in my head, knowing that I had neighbours about 50 steps away, knowing that our Masaai guards were on duty, and trying to figure out why noone was running to help me and screaming. Like I said, no logical thought.
side note: Masaai guards. The four men, from a village far from here, who are part of a tribe known for their tracking and warrior skills. Tall, thin as rails, black as night, and the magnificent ability to glide past you without a sound. They dress in traditional kinds of blankets and decorative bracelets, carry spears, bow and arrows, and machetes, all of which they can use with the deadliest of accuracy, and are of a very proud, serious nature. They take their heritage and their responsibilities very, very seriously not just as our guards, but as who they are. They are impressive to see and apparently even more impressive to watch on the hunt. Our Masaai guards patrol our grounds at night. The compound is fenced in, but we are also surrounded but open fields, a beach, and the jungle. A fence is only a fence. Okay, back to my living nightmare...
I stood in the middle of the room, screaming, seeing the window between the bathroom and my bedroom...open, seeing two backpacks that had been up on a table...on the ground, wondering if there was someone in the bathroom, wondering if the person who had just been mere feet away from me was gone or was just standing outside of my front door that had slammed shut by now, and just willing someone, anyone, to come so I wasn't alone. I finally saw the flashlights of the Masaai, three of them in a row, walking somewhat hesitantly towards my room. I ran out the front door and startled them. How? I'm not sure as I had not stopped screaming, except for the few hyperseconds I needed to keep refilling my lungs. Well, of course they are native Masaai, they don't speak a word of English. I'm shaking and pointing at my door trying to tell them that someone was inside. One of them gently leans across me and pulls my door closed. NO! NO! NO! I'm shouting SOMEONE INSIDE! SOMEONE INSIDE! and I pointed to the fence that is across a small patch of grass just outside of my front door, the perimeter of the gounds. Then I hear one of the Masaai speak, the three of them hustle over to the fence and light up a massive hole in the chain link. They run through it and are off in the field, searching. I almost throw up.
Standing on the path in the front of my hut in my pyjamas, shaking to the bone, and holy crap, I'm alone again in the dark. Flashlights are great, but not enough when you are absolutely terrified. I let them look for a few minutes until I just couldn't stand it anymore and I called them back. I kept saying the names of the owners over and over again, "Raf and Cisa. Raf and Cisca." One, because the hole in the fence was BIG and there was no way that we could leave that unaddressed, and two, I needed them to walk me there, as they live on the other side of the compound (maybe only a 5 minute walk) but I was too afraid to go on my own to tell them about it. I threw on some clothes and we marched over.
Trying to walk on shaky knees, weak from fear but racing with adrenaline, wow, what a disaster. The Masaai first started gently knocking on Mac's door, the GM, who lives just across the path from Raf and Cisca. We tried and tried, he wasn't waking up. Then they were talking back and forth to each other and left back down the road, I guess to continue the search. So again, I'm standing in the middle of a dirt path, more light and the tha-thumping of a nearby generator, and I still feel completely alone in the middle of nowhere, just waiting to have my throat slit from behind. Screw this. I walk up and start banging on Raf and Cisca's door. Dogs wake up, they wake up, Cisca pokes her head out, I try to speak. I get the words, "someone was in my room" out of my mouth and then choke. Shit. My heart is racing even writing this. A couple of tears but I manage to shake it off and clarify that I was sleeping and woke up to find someone in my room.
She pulls me inside, wakes up Raf, who is up, headtorch on, and massive spear in hand within seconds, firing questions at me trying to get the whole picture. Raf wakes Mac up, various weapons are grabbed as are some dogs (there are 5 who live here) and we make our way back to my place. The men check out the fence and the area, I step back inside my room. I just can't stop shaking. I've turned all the lights on by now and see how it all went down. This shadow of my nightmare had scaled the bathroom wall from the outside, mere steps from the fence, and come through one of the latticed windows that didn't have a lock on it. My two backpacks that were sitting on an old section of a local boat to be used as a chair had been placed beside a small, low table next to the door. I think what woke my monkey brain up (again Andrew, thank you for the very accurate phrase) was the sound of the 60L empty backpack falling over after he had placed in on the ground. I can clearly remember the distinct sound of plastic clips hitting concrete floor and it must have somehow registered that that particular sound should not been happening when I'm in my bed.
The search continues, conversation and questions fly, Cisca is fluent in Swahili, and I am slowly starting to be able to hold myself straight again. A second big hole is found in the fence a few huts down, no sign of the intruder, and we all head back to Raf and Cisca's. A round table discussion follows as to who they believe it could have been and why. Raf asks me if I saw him, if I could describe him, and my temper fuelled by terror flared briefly, "He was a black man in my room in the middle of a dark African night, I couldn't see what the f**k he looked like!!!" oops. and we laugh. Tension broken, temporarily.
Much hypothesizing, much more joking, some sympathy and comforting, and I agreed to at least spend the couple of hours left until daylight in their spare room. I layed wide-eyed and rigid as death hearing every snapping twig, every russling leaf and blade of grass, and every single shift in the gravel outside until the sky started to lighten. At around 7am, I went back to my hut, alone, and tried to get on with it.
I avoided mostly everyone throughout the day because I didn't know what I should or shouldn't let other guests know but by the time the dive boat got back, as Raf was on the dive boat, everyone was somewhat aware. I spent the day cleaning. I needed to clean. I hand washed my clothes and sheets, swept and cleaned my room, wandered aimlessly, and cleaned some more. I was just out of sorts. I kept my answers to questions brief and casual and I dreaded nightfall. As the light faded, my stomach began to twist and turn.
sigh... such a drama queen. I know. I made it through the next night on my own, dog at my side, Masaai outside of my door, all of the lights on, seeing that figure at the foot of my bed every time I closed my eyes, swallowing the overwhelming panic in the dark of night, so of course I didn't sleep a wink. New locks and such were put on my hut, new sleeping arrangements were offered but I knew I had to just get through it as I couldn't be afraid of the dark for the next six months. No sleep, but faced the demon.
But wait... please don't go... it isn't over yet.
All of us dragged our asses through the day yesterday as we were tired from the couple of days worth of head shaking what-the-hell-is-going-on-here?! At around 10pm, Raf, exhausted, headed up to his house, the rest of were still in the sitting area (I was avoiding my room), and Mac's phone rang. He and Cisca excused themselves, I knew this wasn't good. In the distance I heard some shouting, a little while later the dogs, who should have been up on their property, came tearing down to the beach at full speed and disappeared, and I knew this wasn't good. Someone had ransacked Raf and Cisca's place.
The two remaining dive staff (two FABULOUS young south african girls) and I went back and forth sitting with Cisca, checking the office and the boats to make sure all was okay, and generally making the rounds. The story unfolded... Raf coming back to his house to find his front door locked from the inside. He must have startled whoever it was as he booted his front door in with one solid kick and the chase was on. He didn't see anyone but gave a mighty shout. The same crew of Raf, Mac, and the Masaai made their way to the village. Following suspicions and using Masaai ability to match footprints outside of Raf's house and a certain staff member's house, all felt that they had found the culprit and were able to guess at accomplices.
Point of concern... I watched Cicsa beg, plead, demand, yell, swear, and beg some more during three different phone calls trying to get the police to come. Raf and Cisca park a vehicle and fuel outside of the local police station (the police don't have a vehicle) but I guess they had used the fuel, were too tired to come, and didn't think it was necessary even though she shouted "EMERGENCY!" over and over again. That was very disconcerting. Eventually they did come, a culprit has been arrested, and Raf and Cisca have spent the day in the village dealing with the police. I haven't heard the outcome yet.
What the hell do I do now? I spent the rest of the couple of hours of last night on a couch in the s.african girls place and when I tried to nap in my own hut today, I woke up in a panicked start as I was sure I heard someone trying to get in my front door. It was full daylight, I went out to check and of course noone was there, but I just can't keep it together. I was told that there was no reason for me to be afraid to go back to my room last night, the thief was caught. When I was afraid to go back to my room after being awoken by creepy company, I was told a similar story, don't be afraid to go back, whoever it was is now too scared to come back. Two nights later, they come back. There's no way to know if the two incidents are related and I don't know if it's better if they are or they aren't. Raf and Cisca are busy trying to replace passports, put steel gates over the office doors, and replace the items that were taken from their home, I am busy trying to figure out how I can survive one more night. They are together, in a big house, with five dogs and lots of weapons, close to all of the people. I am a girl, alone, in the dark corner at the end of a row of huts, close to the edge of the property, no weapons, can have a dog or two, but feeling completely, completely alone. If the two incidents were related and guys are in jail, great. If they weren't and there is more to come, not great. Not good. Not okay at all. Again, the sun has set and light is quickly fading. I just don't know what to do.
So I'm stuck. I don't want to be a baby and bail, I don't want to be that girl who ran crying home because her feathers got ruffled a bit in the middle of the night, but I can't help thinking, what's next? Really. What's next? The owners have to be concerned with their business and all that they have just lost. I know my safety is an issue, but to them it's not the main issue right this second. To me, being selfish me, it is.
I'll have to just take this minute by minute and keep my head about me as best I can. If anyone has a weapon, some advice, mace, rabid guard dogs, or a need for an adventure holiday, please send it all my way, priority post. It won't make it here because the police who used the fuel supply to get them here in an emergency on a random drive through the country side will see packages coming to Swahili Divers and I'm sure feel a need to test drive the contents, but I'll definitely appreciate the gesture. It's getting dark, I have to shower and gather my things, I need to go. There is nothing romantic about the nights anymore. I'm sorry for the horrid entry, I'm sorry that I don't have better stories to tell, but I will keep working on it. I've been saying that since I first started this blog, haven't I? Sorry about that. I really will try to find a lovely tale soon. Keep fingers crossed for me please and I will keep you posted. One week in. Nice.
Please let it only get better from here...
So the previous entry was completed by the indescribable, endlessly entertaining Raf who is the owner of my wild African ride. I like how he said that I "lent" him my computer. He really actually nicked it off me when he saw I was attempting to update my blog and his need for attention and constant resort plugs got the better of him. I was actually quite surprised at how well composed the entry was. I've yet to hear a full sentence out of him that didn't contain at least three f-bombs and two racial slurs. He is absolutely hilarious. No, no, no, racial slurs aren't funny, I know, I know, politically correct blah, blah, blah. But seriously, if you get offended easily, stop reading my blog. Anyway, you now have a local's eye view of where I am living, we'll see how it compares to my own.
I know I'm a chatter box and really rather wordy so I'm going to try to condense the drama that has unfolded over the last few days as quickly as possible. Before I start, yes, I am staying (for now) and yes, I am okay. Here we go...
THE SCANDAL\
You don't really need the details of who's who in the zoo but a few key players... Brad, an Australian DiveMaster who has been here for a few weeks leading dives, and Scott, a random unconnected Aussie who is living and working with a VSO in Namimbia and showed up out of the blue as he has been riding his bike around the island and decided to stay and dive. Yes, riding his bike around Africa. WTF. New Year's Eve, lots of fun, lots of drinking to be had by some (the above mentioned particularly), and both Brad and Scott attended the festivities wearing "kangas", traditional Tanzanian sarongs. Originally the two boys were wearing the kangas over their jeans and shorts but as the alcohol continued to flow, clothing was shed and they were more comfortable in their newly found "skirts". They simply dropped their drawers and left them in a heap on the floor near the bar. We all moved down to the beach for dinner and ate our way til midnight.
After 2010 was joyfully but quietly rung in, some of us moved back up to the bar area. The two boys and an interesting female "friend" disappeared to the beach and I didn't see them again until about 3pm the following day. Darn that alcohol. Before I went to bed at about 1:30am, sober and exhausted, I mentioned to the general manager, a dive instructor and her student, and a guest that were all hanging out in the bar / sitting area that we should hide their knickers to see how they make out in skirts the next day. There were some suggestions to throw their things in the pool, leave them on the beach, etc, but not wanting to be a complete cow and fully aware of the sketchy life in Africa, I tucked the shoes and bottoms under a bench in the dive shop area which is guarded all night long, as it's close to a fuel storage shed, and went to bed.
When the partiers greeted the day later in the afternoon the next day, I was teaching. Somewhat later, Scott was asking around about his shorts. I let him know where they were last placed in my lame attempt to be funny. As the day wore on, the drama wore on. Brad, the DiveMaster, had words with me letting me know how inconvenienced he was by the fact that without his pants, he could not get into his room, no key, and did not have his cell phone to wake him up so he was late for the dives. Ummm... okay, then sleep somewhere else, there is an open area full of couches, and don't get so drunk that you can't wake up in the morning. Sorry, but really. Did I mention that Brad is gay and seems to have a tendency to be a bit moody? wow. Anyway, as the story unfolds, Brad found all of his belongings but they had been moved. Scott found his stuff as well but said his wallet was missing. I walked through with all of those to be involved exactly what happened and when and said that I do remember feeling Scott's camera in his shorts when I picked them up but nothing in the other pocket. Nothing. And yes, his camera was still in his pocket. Scott handled this all with laid back, take it as it comes grace however I walked into the office and in on Brad having a nice little hissy fit with Raf and the GM, Mac. I of course promptly placed myself in the middle of the conversation because, primarily, it was about me.
Brad's arguement essentially consisted of the fact that if things had gotten stolen from where they left their belongings, then yes, they would just have to suck it up, but because I moved their stuff, it is my fault the wallet had gone missing. Raf and Mac went at Brad hard with the following, 1. this is Africa, don't leave your stuff lying around, EVER. 2. there is no way to know that the wallet wasn't taken from the sitting area that was left empty for 2+hrs while we were all eating and drinking. and 3. I actually moved their belongings to a much more secure area than the open sitting area. Raf and Mac stood their ground stating that I was not at fault, Brad maintained his arguement and insisted that it was. My thought process at this time... holy s**t... 4 days in and I am now being accused of what? being a thief? being an idiot? being untrustworthy? it's going to be a long 6 months if this is the case. I offered to replace whatever money was in Scott's wallet. Raf and Mac immediately said no, Brad said I should. Raf asked Brad to leave.
So the remaining three of us chatted. I went over the deal again, and Raf and Mac laughed, thinking it was a great idea to hide their pants and wished they would have thought of it first. They both felt that something was fishy about the whole deal, there was no way to prove that Scott hadn't really lost his wallet before he even arrived as he knew there was a safe on the premises but didn't lock anything up, and they didn't think I should have to do anything. I, being the new girl, knowing I have to continue to work with Brad, feeling that STUPID ancient Catholic guilt, and wanting to do something to make it right again said I would do what I could to replace what I could. Raf sent me to ask Scott how much was in his wallet - he did some hemming and hawwing, said he had just been to the bank, had several currencies in there, blah, blah, blah and it was somewhere between $500-$600US. F.*.*.K.
Went back to Raf, he said bullshit and the three of us proceeded to chop through weeds and jungle looking for this "stolen" wallet. All the while, Raf and Mac are killing themselves laughing at who they can play this prank on next, how I can improve my technique, and telling me that I will fit in nicely here. Me? I'm just getting sicker and sicker to my stomach.
A few back and forth conversations involving Raf, Scott, and me and it was agreed that Raf would allow Scott to stay a couple more days and dive for free and I would cover whatever it would cost him to get back to Namimbia. All said and done, he came up with $250. A smaller f.*.*.k. but one nonetheless. I've been here four days.
The ensuing drama consisted of Brad and the very sexually liberated female friend deciding to no longer talk to me and me feeling a little bit like ninth grade again. Scott, however, continued to approach me and try to make convesation with me, but I made sure I backed WAY away. No more socialzing. The more unfortunate part in the rest of this is our little kiwi. Remember the sweetheart I mentioned in an earlier blog? The smile that plopped down beside me in the airport? SUCH an interesting guy and just a very happy, appreciative soul, but he was kinda out of the loop, I think, on all of this. So he would be diving all day with the peevedsome threesome then any conversation he tried to have with me when he returned eventually lead to the others separating themselves. I, of course, didn't want anything to do with the whole childish mess so I became "staff". Ate with staff, sat with staff, and chatted with staff. The best way to go about it, really. But I was sad to not have had more of a chance to visit with this dear kiwi and I'm afraid that I may have given him the impression that I wasn't interested in spending more time chatting with him when that wasn't the case at all. I simply didn't want him to be pulled into the middle of the crap. He left today and I was very sad to see him go. Andrew, if you're reading this, I do hope our paths cross again someday...
So that was the $250 scandal that the shop feels I really shouldn't pay but I already committed so it's done. Excellent. (so much for not being wordy. and I haven't even gotten to the BIG stuff yet!)
Actually, I really have to pee and have a shower so I'm going to post this and finish the second half in a bit. I shall title the next blog entry... "The Screamfest". (Now I know you'll definitely check back in.) :)
I know I'm a chatter box and really rather wordy so I'm going to try to condense the drama that has unfolded over the last few days as quickly as possible. Before I start, yes, I am staying (for now) and yes, I am okay. Here we go...
THE SCANDAL\
You don't really need the details of who's who in the zoo but a few key players... Brad, an Australian DiveMaster who has been here for a few weeks leading dives, and Scott, a random unconnected Aussie who is living and working with a VSO in Namimbia and showed up out of the blue as he has been riding his bike around the island and decided to stay and dive. Yes, riding his bike around Africa. WTF. New Year's Eve, lots of fun, lots of drinking to be had by some (the above mentioned particularly), and both Brad and Scott attended the festivities wearing "kangas", traditional Tanzanian sarongs. Originally the two boys were wearing the kangas over their jeans and shorts but as the alcohol continued to flow, clothing was shed and they were more comfortable in their newly found "skirts". They simply dropped their drawers and left them in a heap on the floor near the bar. We all moved down to the beach for dinner and ate our way til midnight.
After 2010 was joyfully but quietly rung in, some of us moved back up to the bar area. The two boys and an interesting female "friend" disappeared to the beach and I didn't see them again until about 3pm the following day. Darn that alcohol. Before I went to bed at about 1:30am, sober and exhausted, I mentioned to the general manager, a dive instructor and her student, and a guest that were all hanging out in the bar / sitting area that we should hide their knickers to see how they make out in skirts the next day. There were some suggestions to throw their things in the pool, leave them on the beach, etc, but not wanting to be a complete cow and fully aware of the sketchy life in Africa, I tucked the shoes and bottoms under a bench in the dive shop area which is guarded all night long, as it's close to a fuel storage shed, and went to bed.
When the partiers greeted the day later in the afternoon the next day, I was teaching. Somewhat later, Scott was asking around about his shorts. I let him know where they were last placed in my lame attempt to be funny. As the day wore on, the drama wore on. Brad, the DiveMaster, had words with me letting me know how inconvenienced he was by the fact that without his pants, he could not get into his room, no key, and did not have his cell phone to wake him up so he was late for the dives. Ummm... okay, then sleep somewhere else, there is an open area full of couches, and don't get so drunk that you can't wake up in the morning. Sorry, but really. Did I mention that Brad is gay and seems to have a tendency to be a bit moody? wow. Anyway, as the story unfolds, Brad found all of his belongings but they had been moved. Scott found his stuff as well but said his wallet was missing. I walked through with all of those to be involved exactly what happened and when and said that I do remember feeling Scott's camera in his shorts when I picked them up but nothing in the other pocket. Nothing. And yes, his camera was still in his pocket. Scott handled this all with laid back, take it as it comes grace however I walked into the office and in on Brad having a nice little hissy fit with Raf and the GM, Mac. I of course promptly placed myself in the middle of the conversation because, primarily, it was about me.
Brad's arguement essentially consisted of the fact that if things had gotten stolen from where they left their belongings, then yes, they would just have to suck it up, but because I moved their stuff, it is my fault the wallet had gone missing. Raf and Mac went at Brad hard with the following, 1. this is Africa, don't leave your stuff lying around, EVER. 2. there is no way to know that the wallet wasn't taken from the sitting area that was left empty for 2+hrs while we were all eating and drinking. and 3. I actually moved their belongings to a much more secure area than the open sitting area. Raf and Mac stood their ground stating that I was not at fault, Brad maintained his arguement and insisted that it was. My thought process at this time... holy s**t... 4 days in and I am now being accused of what? being a thief? being an idiot? being untrustworthy? it's going to be a long 6 months if this is the case. I offered to replace whatever money was in Scott's wallet. Raf and Mac immediately said no, Brad said I should. Raf asked Brad to leave.
So the remaining three of us chatted. I went over the deal again, and Raf and Mac laughed, thinking it was a great idea to hide their pants and wished they would have thought of it first. They both felt that something was fishy about the whole deal, there was no way to prove that Scott hadn't really lost his wallet before he even arrived as he knew there was a safe on the premises but didn't lock anything up, and they didn't think I should have to do anything. I, being the new girl, knowing I have to continue to work with Brad, feeling that STUPID ancient Catholic guilt, and wanting to do something to make it right again said I would do what I could to replace what I could. Raf sent me to ask Scott how much was in his wallet - he did some hemming and hawwing, said he had just been to the bank, had several currencies in there, blah, blah, blah and it was somewhere between $500-$600US. F.*.*.K.
Went back to Raf, he said bullshit and the three of us proceeded to chop through weeds and jungle looking for this "stolen" wallet. All the while, Raf and Mac are killing themselves laughing at who they can play this prank on next, how I can improve my technique, and telling me that I will fit in nicely here. Me? I'm just getting sicker and sicker to my stomach.
A few back and forth conversations involving Raf, Scott, and me and it was agreed that Raf would allow Scott to stay a couple more days and dive for free and I would cover whatever it would cost him to get back to Namimbia. All said and done, he came up with $250. A smaller f.*.*.k. but one nonetheless. I've been here four days.
The ensuing drama consisted of Brad and the very sexually liberated female friend deciding to no longer talk to me and me feeling a little bit like ninth grade again. Scott, however, continued to approach me and try to make convesation with me, but I made sure I backed WAY away. No more socialzing. The more unfortunate part in the rest of this is our little kiwi. Remember the sweetheart I mentioned in an earlier blog? The smile that plopped down beside me in the airport? SUCH an interesting guy and just a very happy, appreciative soul, but he was kinda out of the loop, I think, on all of this. So he would be diving all day with the peevedsome threesome then any conversation he tried to have with me when he returned eventually lead to the others separating themselves. I, of course, didn't want anything to do with the whole childish mess so I became "staff". Ate with staff, sat with staff, and chatted with staff. The best way to go about it, really. But I was sad to not have had more of a chance to visit with this dear kiwi and I'm afraid that I may have given him the impression that I wasn't interested in spending more time chatting with him when that wasn't the case at all. I simply didn't want him to be pulled into the middle of the crap. He left today and I was very sad to see him go. Andrew, if you're reading this, I do hope our paths cross again someday...
So that was the $250 scandal that the shop feels I really shouldn't pay but I already committed so it's done. Excellent. (so much for not being wordy. and I haven't even gotten to the BIG stuff yet!)
Actually, I really have to pee and have a shower so I'm going to post this and finish the second half in a bit. I shall title the next blog entry... "The Screamfest". (Now I know you'll definitely check back in.) :)
Now a word from our sponsor...
This short blog section is guest written by Raf, the crazy fool who actually ploughed half a million bucks and 11 years of his life into Tanzania. (It's probably more than that, but I am embarrassed to say)
Janice has very kindly lent me her computer to post a few notes on the unique location that is Pemba. Pemba is a green Island that is 30 nautical miles off the coast of Africa, but its not really African. The highest point in 80 metres above sea level, but the island is rolling and hilly. It is a volcanic island that rises 800m from the Indian ocean seafloor on one side and 3000m on the otherside. The sea around pemba is a dark blue and the coral reefs look azure from the air. There are three medium size towns on the Island and a couple of large villages that pass as small towns. It is 60 nautical miles north to south, and has one major road. There are three tourist hotels on the Island and one airfield that is useable in the daytime only. Janice's home is in the far northern tip of the Island, four miles south of the 103 year old British built light house, at ras kigomasha.
Pemba is populated by a bunch of Arabs, africans, everything in between. There are also about 13-20 permanent ethnic Europeans here, of which Janice is now one. Although where I am concerned I am only European if you consider Istanbul to be Europe. The melange of people on Pemba is unique. It is also, by and large, very peaceful. The only ethnic group that is missing are the Indians. There are two Indian families left on the Island after the 1964 revolution. Now you may ask "what revolution? What was that?" . Well in 1964 Zanzibar (the state that encompases the Islands of Pemba and Zanzibar) was an independant nation. Britain gave it Independance in 1963, and the locals held an election. The election was gerrymandered and the Africa community felt jipped. A series of people consipired to have an election, and the Island of Zanzibar was punged into violent chaos. 40,000 people were killed. Mostly Arabs and some Indians. Pemba remained much calmer. Tanzania was then formed in 1964, a union between Tanganyka and Zanzibar. The United Republic of Tanzania then entered a period of socialism that destroyed infrastructure and education, through neglect. Happily Ali Hassan Mwinyi, a president in the 1980's opened Tanzania up to international investors. But the process was long and laborious. The socialist (Safari suit) generation were still in all posts in the civil service.
By now, in 2010, Zanzibar and indeed Tanzania, have come a long way. The greatest positive input into the Nation is foriegn investment. This generates jobs and education. The greatest challenge is virrulent corruption and gross malicious mismanagement.
To an extent this is where Janice fits in. She has been brought here by a private investment, to teach the staff better English. So diabolical is the level of education here in Pemba, that if you want staff who speak English, then you have to get them from Zanzibar or the mainland. Pemba is so remote that mainlanders regard it as being the greatest of hardship postings. Janice has a guest room to herself, (which is really more of a house than a room) and wanders around the hotel calling the staff over and teaching them English in their work location. It has only been six days, but the idea is that if this works, we might even extend it to the children of our staff and perhaps even wider, in the hope that we can prepare Pemba for the benefit of the next generation...
And now I will leave it to Janice to explain her adventures to you all...
Raf
Janice has very kindly lent me her computer to post a few notes on the unique location that is Pemba. Pemba is a green Island that is 30 nautical miles off the coast of Africa, but its not really African. The highest point in 80 metres above sea level, but the island is rolling and hilly. It is a volcanic island that rises 800m from the Indian ocean seafloor on one side and 3000m on the otherside. The sea around pemba is a dark blue and the coral reefs look azure from the air. There are three medium size towns on the Island and a couple of large villages that pass as small towns. It is 60 nautical miles north to south, and has one major road. There are three tourist hotels on the Island and one airfield that is useable in the daytime only. Janice's home is in the far northern tip of the Island, four miles south of the 103 year old British built light house, at ras kigomasha.
Pemba is populated by a bunch of Arabs, africans, everything in between. There are also about 13-20 permanent ethnic Europeans here, of which Janice is now one. Although where I am concerned I am only European if you consider Istanbul to be Europe. The melange of people on Pemba is unique. It is also, by and large, very peaceful. The only ethnic group that is missing are the Indians. There are two Indian families left on the Island after the 1964 revolution. Now you may ask "what revolution? What was that?" . Well in 1964 Zanzibar (the state that encompases the Islands of Pemba and Zanzibar) was an independant nation. Britain gave it Independance in 1963, and the locals held an election. The election was gerrymandered and the Africa community felt jipped. A series of people consipired to have an election, and the Island of Zanzibar was punged into violent chaos. 40,000 people were killed. Mostly Arabs and some Indians. Pemba remained much calmer. Tanzania was then formed in 1964, a union between Tanganyka and Zanzibar. The United Republic of Tanzania then entered a period of socialism that destroyed infrastructure and education, through neglect. Happily Ali Hassan Mwinyi, a president in the 1980's opened Tanzania up to international investors. But the process was long and laborious. The socialist (Safari suit) generation were still in all posts in the civil service.
By now, in 2010, Zanzibar and indeed Tanzania, have come a long way. The greatest positive input into the Nation is foriegn investment. This generates jobs and education. The greatest challenge is virrulent corruption and gross malicious mismanagement.
To an extent this is where Janice fits in. She has been brought here by a private investment, to teach the staff better English. So diabolical is the level of education here in Pemba, that if you want staff who speak English, then you have to get them from Zanzibar or the mainland. Pemba is so remote that mainlanders regard it as being the greatest of hardship postings. Janice has a guest room to herself, (which is really more of a house than a room) and wanders around the hotel calling the staff over and teaching them English in their work location. It has only been six days, but the idea is that if this works, we might even extend it to the children of our staff and perhaps even wider, in the hope that we can prepare Pemba for the benefit of the next generation...
And now I will leave it to Janice to explain her adventures to you all...
Raf
Saturday, January 2, 2010
The journey
Africa…? Really…???
Happy New Year! My first official blog entry since arriving on the new continent. A new year, a new home, a new challenge. Here’s to all of the adventure that 2010 holds for all of us!
My goal… to keep this blog up and running. I can already see how easily it could be to slip into the tranquil existence of no outside contact. But this will be the journal of, if nothing else, the interesting and colourful characters that will be passing through this remote dive centre somewhere on the East African coastline. Let’s go back to when I left you guys…
The journey was long, but for the most part, surprisingly uneventful. Almost three complete days from door to door. Ugh. Considering that a silly Nigerian burned himself to bits trying to blow up that Christmas Day flight, three days with no delays was actually incredibly lucky. No need to document the journey as it was merely airports and grouchy people, but there were one or two highlights…
Sadly, my lodging in London was close to the airport, miles and miles from anything or anywhere else. The three block walk from my hotel to the local Tesco mini mart was sadly stereotypical; drizzly grey, lots of litter in the streets, and many sketchy looking characters in tracksuits flitting about with a cigarette jammed in their mouths as they shouted into cell phones with random “alright! alright!” and “bloody hell”s here and there. And not a pretty set of teeth between them all.
Heathrow airport is a complete nightmare. Complete. However, good fortune was on my side once again as the short lineup for Egypt Air and the checking in of all of my book laden bags without extra charge was surprisingly efficient. I have to admit that my white girl, media-hyped, slightly overwhelmed brain was a little bit on watchdog mode as all of the communication quickly switched from English to Arabic. The airport announcements or reports from the captains on the planes would go on for 5 solid minutes in Arabic, then a 3 second “please fasten your seat belt, enjoy your flight” English translation. Come on now. I’ve lived in Asia, we’ve all seen the mis-dubbed kung fu films, yeah, some languages take a little longer than others to get their point across, but this is ridiculous. Who knows what the cool Arabic kids got to talk about behind our English speaking backs but I made it here in one piece, and that’s all I really cared about.
Going through a “security check” in Cairo was interesting… they took some water bottles, and not others, even though we were already in the secure zone, they let me keep my nice sharp plastic knife that I had forgotten about and shoved in my carry on, and when I beeped going through the scanner, the security guy motioned to this bored and very disinterested looking woman sitting behind him. She was slouching and yawning in a randomly placed chair, holding one of the magic metal detector wands loosely in her lap. I paused, but she remained seated. Really? You’re not even going to get up?! So I walked the few steps over to where she couldn’t be bothered to drag her ass up from her mighty plastic throne to check for explosive devices, she waved her magic wand over my front, it beeped, and she did the… “pfft. Get out of here”, hand dismissal wave. I stood there with my mouth open for a few seconds, shook my head, and moved on. I guess no one has any intentions of blowing up planes going INTO the Middle East.
Blah, blah, blah… arriving in Dar es Salaam, capital city of Tanzania. You know that cool map movie thing that plays on most flights as you’re travelling? Gives you the time to destination, miles to destination, outside temperature, how high you are flying, etc? Ummm… yeah. The last outside breath of air I had was in London, where I wore my puffy down jacket to the store. I knew I was heading to Africa, so dressed in layers accordingly, but as we were descending, what caught my attention was the temperature. As we re-entered our lovely atmosphere, we quickly jumped from -51C to +16C. We are landing as the sun is rising, just after 6 am. And we descend, lower, temperature, higher, higher. Still at 750m and we’re already up to 26C. Oh s**t. Yes, I can hear you all rolling your eyes … I know it’s Africa, I know it’s hot, but you can just never really prepare for it.
A driver was waiting for me, very happy man holding up a hand-printed Swahili Divers sign, and I was giddy on a combination of extreme over-tiredness and complete and udder disorientation. The plan was that I would go to a hotel where I could most likely get a discounted day rate, sleep for a few hours, and shower before starting the little plane journey over to the islands. The drive into the city was hot and slow so it allowed me to replay so many fond scenes of my beloved Thailand. Busy streets, someone always selling something up and down in between traffic, swarms of people walking, running, biking, from one place to the next, and minibuses dangerously crammed with seas of sweaty faces and random items of necessity tied to any available space. The differences… darker skin and colourful wrap-like clothes. Oh! And the superstar women walking with 100 pound baskets of food, papers, or whatever perched firmly on their heads. Very, very impressive. THAT, I have to learn!
A hot, sweaty, confusing drive and we end up at one place, no clean rooms. Head down to the next one, and paid $20US, no discount! for the sketchiest little ickfest that compelled me to place a chair under the doorknob despite it being the middle of the day. Laid some of my own things over the stained and torn sheets and pillow and attempted sleep. A continuous stream of hammer banging on pipe, shouts and foreign conversation, and a nagging sense that the lock on my door was being tried a couple of times kept me from any rest. I braved the bathroom, oh you just can’t imagine, and checked out by noon to be taken back to the airport. The drive was less than a half an hour each way and I was charged a hefty sum of $50US. I was in Dar es Salaam less than 5 hrs and spent $70US. Folks, I have quickly learned that Africa is NOT cheap.
Domestic airport. Typical. No plane ticket upon arrival, not typical. The airline I was supposed to fly had no internet so sent me to another airline. Nope, you’re not on our list of reservations. Back to the first one, oh, yeah, here you are, who is paying for your ticket? No, no, it has already been paid for. Look of disappointment. Oh. Okay, we leave at 2:45pm. (even though tickets said 2pm). Welcome to Africa. Chatted up all of the airline staff (hmmm… maybe all of about 6 people INCLUDING the pilot!) coming in and out of the office-sized room that was their waiting area. One of the porters weighs my bags, tells me I have to pay. I drop the names of the resort owners and their boss who runs the airline, they make a phone call, and I don’t have to pay. More disappointed looks. So I wait. And wait. And wait.
Much, much later 7 westerners walk out to the tarmac and onto an 8 seater plane. Small, old, dingy bits and pieces held together with string and duct tape. But we make it to Zanzibar in 20 mins. Off, wait at Zanzibar, then move on to the big plane about an hour later, about 17 of us on a 20 seat plane. Gulp. I was dying from heat and exhaustion (are you picking up on the common factor here?!) so no fear laced adrenaline rush, no fingernails in the palms of my hands, I closed my eyes and did the mouth open sleep for probably a good, solid 15 minutes. We arrive in Pemba 30 minutes after we left Zanzibar.
Walking on the tarmac is always such an interesting event in these countries, dodging random parked and trying to park planes. Safety is just an entirely different concept. Entirely. While waiting for the luggage to be carted off the plane, a sweetheart of a kiwi with the best smile EVER plops himself down to wait. He and another girl who were on the plane had met climbing Kilimanjaro and came here together. Wow. Impressive, impressive, impressive. The kiwi was planning on coming to my resort to do some diving, the girl was open to plans so came along. I offered my driver, being the presumptuous person that I am, and we were all soon speeding through the little towns and villages on the hour long trip to the northern point of the island.
This Africa has parts of what I had imagined, and more parts of SE Asia. “Villages” with mud / clay huts and thatched roofs, half clothed children, small random collections of odd buildings with random things, and lots and lots of people just sitting, as there’s nothing else to do. Wherever there’s a bit of shade, you would see people just sitting, watching, seemingly waiting, and still doing nothing. But it’s the coast, and a very healthy coast, so the full green of the tropics covered everywhere I looked – enormous and green and green and green. Slightly disappointing as it wasn’t completely new conce, but comforting at the same time. It was surreal.
My home… well, I’ve got to get some pictures up. This isn’t Africa. This isn’t toughing it. This is just dreamy. Right on the beach, quaint open concept resort, it’s is simply amazing, amazing, amazing. There’s no way that pictures will do it justice, but oh my gosh, I will try. It has been an interesting few days but this is already ridiculously long so I should get it posted. I’ve done a bit of teaching, two dives, and already been involved in a scandal that will cost me around $300US. 4 days in and drama already. Sigh. The owners are instantly lovable, feels like family already, but had my first break down this afternoon. Happy New Year to me. Tomorrow is another day, this is Africa, they keep telling me, and nothing is right unless everything is all effed up, so I soldier on. I’ll get some more of the details out soon but for now, I just wanted to let everyone know that I’m still alive. I welcomed 2010 under a full African moon on the beach with a glass of champagne in my hand toasting some of the most interesting of people, and I am still looking forward to everything that this new year has to offer, good, bad, ugly, and everything in between.
Hope the hangovers have somewhat subsided, that everyone is still looking forward to what the New Year will bring, and that you’re all still checking In on me. Talk to you. xoxo
Happy New Year! My first official blog entry since arriving on the new continent. A new year, a new home, a new challenge. Here’s to all of the adventure that 2010 holds for all of us!
My goal… to keep this blog up and running. I can already see how easily it could be to slip into the tranquil existence of no outside contact. But this will be the journal of, if nothing else, the interesting and colourful characters that will be passing through this remote dive centre somewhere on the East African coastline. Let’s go back to when I left you guys…
The journey was long, but for the most part, surprisingly uneventful. Almost three complete days from door to door. Ugh. Considering that a silly Nigerian burned himself to bits trying to blow up that Christmas Day flight, three days with no delays was actually incredibly lucky. No need to document the journey as it was merely airports and grouchy people, but there were one or two highlights…
Sadly, my lodging in London was close to the airport, miles and miles from anything or anywhere else. The three block walk from my hotel to the local Tesco mini mart was sadly stereotypical; drizzly grey, lots of litter in the streets, and many sketchy looking characters in tracksuits flitting about with a cigarette jammed in their mouths as they shouted into cell phones with random “alright! alright!” and “bloody hell”s here and there. And not a pretty set of teeth between them all.
Heathrow airport is a complete nightmare. Complete. However, good fortune was on my side once again as the short lineup for Egypt Air and the checking in of all of my book laden bags without extra charge was surprisingly efficient. I have to admit that my white girl, media-hyped, slightly overwhelmed brain was a little bit on watchdog mode as all of the communication quickly switched from English to Arabic. The airport announcements or reports from the captains on the planes would go on for 5 solid minutes in Arabic, then a 3 second “please fasten your seat belt, enjoy your flight” English translation. Come on now. I’ve lived in Asia, we’ve all seen the mis-dubbed kung fu films, yeah, some languages take a little longer than others to get their point across, but this is ridiculous. Who knows what the cool Arabic kids got to talk about behind our English speaking backs but I made it here in one piece, and that’s all I really cared about.
Going through a “security check” in Cairo was interesting… they took some water bottles, and not others, even though we were already in the secure zone, they let me keep my nice sharp plastic knife that I had forgotten about and shoved in my carry on, and when I beeped going through the scanner, the security guy motioned to this bored and very disinterested looking woman sitting behind him. She was slouching and yawning in a randomly placed chair, holding one of the magic metal detector wands loosely in her lap. I paused, but she remained seated. Really? You’re not even going to get up?! So I walked the few steps over to where she couldn’t be bothered to drag her ass up from her mighty plastic throne to check for explosive devices, she waved her magic wand over my front, it beeped, and she did the… “pfft. Get out of here”, hand dismissal wave. I stood there with my mouth open for a few seconds, shook my head, and moved on. I guess no one has any intentions of blowing up planes going INTO the Middle East.
Blah, blah, blah… arriving in Dar es Salaam, capital city of Tanzania. You know that cool map movie thing that plays on most flights as you’re travelling? Gives you the time to destination, miles to destination, outside temperature, how high you are flying, etc? Ummm… yeah. The last outside breath of air I had was in London, where I wore my puffy down jacket to the store. I knew I was heading to Africa, so dressed in layers accordingly, but as we were descending, what caught my attention was the temperature. As we re-entered our lovely atmosphere, we quickly jumped from -51C to +16C. We are landing as the sun is rising, just after 6 am. And we descend, lower, temperature, higher, higher. Still at 750m and we’re already up to 26C. Oh s**t. Yes, I can hear you all rolling your eyes … I know it’s Africa, I know it’s hot, but you can just never really prepare for it.
A driver was waiting for me, very happy man holding up a hand-printed Swahili Divers sign, and I was giddy on a combination of extreme over-tiredness and complete and udder disorientation. The plan was that I would go to a hotel where I could most likely get a discounted day rate, sleep for a few hours, and shower before starting the little plane journey over to the islands. The drive into the city was hot and slow so it allowed me to replay so many fond scenes of my beloved Thailand. Busy streets, someone always selling something up and down in between traffic, swarms of people walking, running, biking, from one place to the next, and minibuses dangerously crammed with seas of sweaty faces and random items of necessity tied to any available space. The differences… darker skin and colourful wrap-like clothes. Oh! And the superstar women walking with 100 pound baskets of food, papers, or whatever perched firmly on their heads. Very, very impressive. THAT, I have to learn!
A hot, sweaty, confusing drive and we end up at one place, no clean rooms. Head down to the next one, and paid $20US, no discount! for the sketchiest little ickfest that compelled me to place a chair under the doorknob despite it being the middle of the day. Laid some of my own things over the stained and torn sheets and pillow and attempted sleep. A continuous stream of hammer banging on pipe, shouts and foreign conversation, and a nagging sense that the lock on my door was being tried a couple of times kept me from any rest. I braved the bathroom, oh you just can’t imagine, and checked out by noon to be taken back to the airport. The drive was less than a half an hour each way and I was charged a hefty sum of $50US. I was in Dar es Salaam less than 5 hrs and spent $70US. Folks, I have quickly learned that Africa is NOT cheap.
Domestic airport. Typical. No plane ticket upon arrival, not typical. The airline I was supposed to fly had no internet so sent me to another airline. Nope, you’re not on our list of reservations. Back to the first one, oh, yeah, here you are, who is paying for your ticket? No, no, it has already been paid for. Look of disappointment. Oh. Okay, we leave at 2:45pm. (even though tickets said 2pm). Welcome to Africa. Chatted up all of the airline staff (hmmm… maybe all of about 6 people INCLUDING the pilot!) coming in and out of the office-sized room that was their waiting area. One of the porters weighs my bags, tells me I have to pay. I drop the names of the resort owners and their boss who runs the airline, they make a phone call, and I don’t have to pay. More disappointed looks. So I wait. And wait. And wait.
Much, much later 7 westerners walk out to the tarmac and onto an 8 seater plane. Small, old, dingy bits and pieces held together with string and duct tape. But we make it to Zanzibar in 20 mins. Off, wait at Zanzibar, then move on to the big plane about an hour later, about 17 of us on a 20 seat plane. Gulp. I was dying from heat and exhaustion (are you picking up on the common factor here?!) so no fear laced adrenaline rush, no fingernails in the palms of my hands, I closed my eyes and did the mouth open sleep for probably a good, solid 15 minutes. We arrive in Pemba 30 minutes after we left Zanzibar.
Walking on the tarmac is always such an interesting event in these countries, dodging random parked and trying to park planes. Safety is just an entirely different concept. Entirely. While waiting for the luggage to be carted off the plane, a sweetheart of a kiwi with the best smile EVER plops himself down to wait. He and another girl who were on the plane had met climbing Kilimanjaro and came here together. Wow. Impressive, impressive, impressive. The kiwi was planning on coming to my resort to do some diving, the girl was open to plans so came along. I offered my driver, being the presumptuous person that I am, and we were all soon speeding through the little towns and villages on the hour long trip to the northern point of the island.
This Africa has parts of what I had imagined, and more parts of SE Asia. “Villages” with mud / clay huts and thatched roofs, half clothed children, small random collections of odd buildings with random things, and lots and lots of people just sitting, as there’s nothing else to do. Wherever there’s a bit of shade, you would see people just sitting, watching, seemingly waiting, and still doing nothing. But it’s the coast, and a very healthy coast, so the full green of the tropics covered everywhere I looked – enormous and green and green and green. Slightly disappointing as it wasn’t completely new conce, but comforting at the same time. It was surreal.
My home… well, I’ve got to get some pictures up. This isn’t Africa. This isn’t toughing it. This is just dreamy. Right on the beach, quaint open concept resort, it’s is simply amazing, amazing, amazing. There’s no way that pictures will do it justice, but oh my gosh, I will try. It has been an interesting few days but this is already ridiculously long so I should get it posted. I’ve done a bit of teaching, two dives, and already been involved in a scandal that will cost me around $300US. 4 days in and drama already. Sigh. The owners are instantly lovable, feels like family already, but had my first break down this afternoon. Happy New Year to me. Tomorrow is another day, this is Africa, they keep telling me, and nothing is right unless everything is all effed up, so I soldier on. I’ll get some more of the details out soon but for now, I just wanted to let everyone know that I’m still alive. I welcomed 2010 under a full African moon on the beach with a glass of champagne in my hand toasting some of the most interesting of people, and I am still looking forward to everything that this new year has to offer, good, bad, ugly, and everything in between.
Hope the hangovers have somewhat subsided, that everyone is still looking forward to what the New Year will bring, and that you’re all still checking In on me. Talk to you. xoxo
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